


down in new orleans

by vtforpedro



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Fluff and Humor, Holidays, Love Confessions, M/M, New Orleans, Pre-Apocalypse, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:20:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Aziraphale takes a holiday to New Orleans and comes across a familiar face.





	down in new orleans

Aziraphale walks down the street and looks around in awe. There are beautiful shops and restaurants everywhere, splashed with an immense amount of color and cheer.  
  
There are crowds moving here and there, people shouting and laughing, and generally having a good time. They flood the shops and each restaurant that he passes has long lines outside of it, people waiting to be seated, if they can get in at all.   
  
There are yellows and pinks and blues everywhere he looks. Stringed lights glow brightly in the coming evening and some people even wear lights around their necks, all in good fun.   
  
Music plays from different shops, jazz and rock and roll, filling Aziraphale’s heart with a sense of wonder and the need to explore.   
  
It smells of crawfish and andouille sausage and coffee and rum. There are spices in the air and Aziraphale breathes in deeply as he walks alone.   
  
New Orleans.   
  
Of all places in the world known for its food and atmosphere, he’s never actually been. He hasn’t been to a lot of places in America, most important biblical events happening outside of it, and he’s never had to chase any demons into the huge country to keep an eye on them.   
  
But one day, when he’d been in his study at the bookshop pouring over old maps, he had looked at America and seen New Orleans, Louisiana. He’d felt like an amateur then, not a food connoisseur the way he had always envisioned himself. There were dishes and flavors mastered in New Orleans the way they were nowhere else and he decided he simply must go there.   
  
So he’d popped on across the ocean and entered America for the first time in a long while. He’s gotten a hotel nearby, despite the fact that it’s March, but a room had miraculously opened up for him. The receptionist had been very confused, as you normally need to book a room a year in advance, but Aziraphale had merely smiled and… worked his magic.   
  
And now he’s here and what a wonderful place it is! He’s used to crowds from working in Soho, but they sort of bubble around him, as if they sense his aura and want to give him space.   
  
He steps into a restaurant and gives his name, which has made it to the list at some point today, and is seated at a beautiful table near the street, where he might people watch. He orders oysters and pointedly doesn’t think about a certain demon he might share them with.   
  
The idea to invite Crowley along had been there, of course. They see each other often enough, what with living in the same city and cleaning up after each other. It’s much easier to run into each other nowadays in this modern world and all Aziraphale had to do was pick up the phone.   
  
Crowley would have likely wanted to come. It seems like his sort of scene, with the gambling and tourists to easily tempt. But if Gabriel had happened to come searching for him and found him by Crowley’s side, what might happen then? Surely Crowley would be destroyed and Aziraphale might just lose the body he’s had for so long and is incredibly fond of.   
  
He just couldn’t do that to Crowley or himself.   
  
Aziraphale is highly aware that he’s developed feelings for Crowley in the last few decades or so.   
  
Rather, he thinks they’ve been there since the beginning, but the very idea of _ being something _ with a demon had kept those thoughts in the very back of his mind.   
  
He’s fond of Crowley, there’s no denying that, but when Crowley had rescued his precious books for him, well… there had been a second explosion that night, this one occurring in Aziraphale’s heart.   
  
Perhaps another reason he hadn’t asked Crowley along is because he wants to give them space. Perhaps if he doesn’t see Crowley every week or talk to him on the phone nearly every night, these feelings might simply… go away.   
  
Oh, who is he kidding?   
  
These feelings are here to stay.   
  
Aziraphale dines on oysters and drinks a lovely Hurricane or three. He tries the gumbo for his main meal and is utterly delighted by it. It’s spicy but homey and filled with an incredible amount of seafood. There is no skimping in New Orleans.   
  
He wishes to try the beignets but decides he’ll wait until tomorrow to do so, at Cafe du Monde, the famous coffee house. Tonight he eats the bananas foster and decides that if he must by discorporated, he’ll do it happily enough.   
  
When he leaves the restaurant, he looks up at the stars and watches them twinkle above him.   
  
New Orleans is a truly magical place, isn’t it? He thinks he may just become a regular visitor.   
  
His hotel is very nice and though he doesn’t sleep, he does lounge on the bed and watch television, a rare thing for him. He’s got a long day planned for tomorrow and decides he’ll… rest his feet in preparation for it.   
  
Morning comes bright and early and Aziraphale takes breakfast in the hotel’s restaurant. He eats another bananas foster, this one over brioche french toast, and enjoys it immensely, along with many cups of coffee.   
  
The first activity he has planned is an airboat ride through the bayou before the sun reaches its peak in the sky. He’s been told wildlife is easiest to see in the morning or at dusk and has booked an airboat tour for both times of the day.   
  
Why not maximize his experience?   
  
Aziraphale gets a lift to the Bayou and signs in before he mingles with the group he’ll be sightseeing with. They’re lovely people, from all sorts of walks of life, and he listens to their stories with no little amount of fascination.   
  
There’s the fisherman from Barcelona and the hairstylist from California and the doctor from India, with her two twin boys.   
  
They seem to like Aziraphale and the boys especially cling to him as he does a few magic tricks for them. They’re a bit on the younger side, so they naturally think he’s a true magician, and it delights him to no end.   
  
It isn’t long before they’ve boarded the airboat and Aziraphale sits toward the back, near where the tour guide sits, and on the edge of the boat. He’s brought along one of those little disposable cameras so he might take pictures. He had bought another one at home merely to figure out how to use it but it’s straightforward enough.   
  
“Alright,” a voice says. “Hello, hello, humans and offspring. I’m Crowley and I’ll be your tour guide for this evening.”   
  
“Morning!” the twin boys yell.   
  
“Is it really? Well, _ whatever, _ morning. Welcome to the Bayou, isn’t it lovely this time of year. All strapped in? Let’s be off then, lots of things to see and do.”   
  
Aziraphale gapes in shock as he looks at the tall, thin man making his way through everyone to the back of the boat. _ Speak of the bloody devil, _ Aziraphale thinks.   
  
“Hello, Crowley,” Aziraphale says as Crowley gets closer to the back.   
  
Crowley freezes, looking at Aziraphale with obvious shock, his eyebrows raised. “Angel?” is what he says, and then, “Aziraphale! What in the devil are you doing here?”   
  
Aziraphale is used to seeing Crowley in all sorts of different clothing and hairstyles, but he never thought he’d see him in a straw lifeguard’s hat and pink boat shorts.   
  
“I’m here to enjoy an airboat tour,” Aziraphale says with a pleased smile. “I suppose the world works in mysterious ways.”   
  
“Yeah, the _ world,” _ Crowley says, his lips twitching. “Are you sure you’re not here to tell me something?”   
  
“I’m sure,” Aziraphale says.   
  
He’s quite happy now. Perhaps he can share his New Orleans holiday with Crowley after all. They do seem to run into each other a lot, in the most unexpected places, so perhaps he should have thought this might happen.   
  
He’d normally thank the Almighty for rewarding his faith with miracles of Her own, but would She really lead a demon to him?   
  
It certainly seems that way.   
  
“Well, welcome aboard,” Crowley says. “Arms and legs in the boat at all times, don’t make me tell you twice.” He waggles his finger at the twin boys, who giggle gleefully. He winks at Aziraphale and turns the airboat on. “And we’re off!”   
  
They begin to make their way down the river, brightly lit with the morning sun, birds of many varieties swimming on the water or trying to catch their breakfast on the banks.   
  
“How long have you been doing this?” Aziraphale asks out of the corner of his mouth. “And why?”   
  
“The easiest place to tempt people, of course,” Crowley says. “Lots of tourists that go where I tell them to. Been doing it for a few months now. Loads of sinning.”   
  
Aziraphale huffs a little, but can’t help a smile. “Yes, I thought this seemed like… your scene, when I decided to come.”   
  
“Why didn’t you tell me you were popping over to America?”   
  
Aziraphale shifts uncomfortably. “I did think about it,” he admits. “But I thought it might be odd if we were seen together here.”   
  
“No one’s going to see us,” Crowley says. “Look over there,” he says into the microphone. “A flamingo!”   
  
Aziraphale stands. “He means a spoonbill,” he says and smiles at everyone as he sits back down.   
  
The tourists laugh, as if it’s part of the show, but Aziraphale thinks Crowley isn’t particularly trying at all.   
  
“Spoonbill, eh?” Crowley asks. “Who would have known?”   
  
“You, if you’d studied!” Aziraphale says, grinning gleefully as he gets another laugh out of everyone. He looks at Crowley, who is peering down at him with that small smile of his.   
  
The one that’s filled with fondness and something Aziraphale is too frightened to name.   
  
He’s not completely blind to the way Crowley looks at him and never has been. There’s longing in his snake-like eyes, and he can see Crowley’s affection in the small touches between them. He can feel love, yes, but not necessarily Crowley’s and he thinks that’s because of his demonic tendencies.   
  
Demons can experience love, of course, but angels can’t really detect it. A sort of built in defense mechanism he supposes, even if he wishes it wasn’t so. He’d like to feel what Crowley feels, to perhaps have his questions answered, but that wouldn’t particularly be fair to Crowley either.   
  
He snaps pictures and looks around the Bayou with awe. It’s gorgeous and so very different from what he knows.   
  
Trees grow from the high waters, some of their leaves like curtains swaying in a breeze. There are mossy logs in the water which everyone thinks is an alligator until, well, they see an alligator.   
  
“Great big bugger,” Aziraphale says as he takes a picture of the alligator.   
  
“Him? That’s nothing,” Crowley says. “Look at this one!”   
  
Suddenly, from underneath the algae, a massive alligator appears. He’s got to be twenty feet long, swimming slowly along next to their airboat, and everyone oohs and ahhs.   
  
Aziraphale suspects Crowley had something to do with his appearance. He remembers someone mentioning the larger ones are moved away from the city and they’re still rather close to it.   
  
“They won’t eat us, will they?” one of the twin boys asks.   
  
“Only if you fall in,” Crowley says. When the boy clings to his mother’s side, Crowley nods sagely. “That’s better.”   
  
Aziraphale smiles to himself as they continue along through the Bayou. There are so many different birds here, storks and other waterfowl, and the occasional critter can be seen when they come across dry land.   
  
Crowley keeps up a running commentary full of facts that can’t possibly be true, but that makes everyone laugh anyway. He points out a raccoon and rejoices to know he got it correct and Aziraphale watches him fondly. Goodness if there isn’t something special about Crowley.   
  
Something that he feels whenever he thinks about the demon. It makes his blood burn just under his skin and gives him an itch he can’t quite scratch.   
  
What does that Elvis song say? _ I’m itchin’ like a man in a fuzzy tree. _   
  
Not entirely poetic but the sentiment is there.   
  
“What are you doing after this?” Crowley asks in between pointing out a flock of white ibises and telling a joke about three monks.   
  
“I planned on getting a spot of lunch and then I have another tour booked for the evening,” Aziraphale says. “Will it be you giving it?”   
  
“No, I’m done at three,” Crowley says. “But I can be done before that, if you’d like company at lunch.”   
  
Aziraphale’s heart shouldn’t race the way it does at those simple words. “That would be lovely,” he says. “I’m going to try the jambalaya at the Gumbo Shop and then head to Cafe du Monde for coffee and beignets. What do you say?”   
  
“Sounds good,” Crowley says. “As long as there is a lot of alcohol to go with it.”   
  
“I had a delightful Hurricane last night,” Aziraphale says happily. “Or quite a few anyway.”   
  
Aziraphale recites his first day in New Orleans to Crowley, who he knows is listening, even when he picks up the microphone and shouts out his horrid facts, like _ did you know that New Orleans was founded in 1858? _   
  
They head back toward the dock and Aziraphale makes sure to get good use out of his camera. He doesn’t know how the pictures might turn out but there’s no saying a small miracle here and there can’t fix any blurry ones. He tucks away the camera and gets off of the airboat with his fellow tourists.   
  
“Thanks for coming, all you lovely people,” Crowley says as he follows them off. He lets his straw hat fall to his back, the string around his neck stopping it from tumbling to the ground, and looks at Aziraphale. “Lunch?”   
  
“Are you sure you don’t have to continue working?”   
  
Crowley merely gives him a look and Aziraphale huffs a little. They leave the river and catch a ride back into the city proper. Crowley tells Aziraphale all about his time in New Orleans and the sort of mischief he has gotten up to, like tempting people to spontaneously spend all of their savings at the poker table on the riverboats.   
  
Aziraphale gasps. “Their life savings!”   
  
“Oh, they all win, of course,” Crowley says with annoyance. “Couldn’t go around destroying lives. That’s Hastur’s job.”   
  
Aziraphale doesn’t say anything, but whatever look he’s unknowingly giving Crowley has the demon hissing unpleasantly at him.   
  
They walk through the French Quarter and go to the Gumbo Shop. Everyone seems to know Crowley by name and they don’t even have to miracle a table open for themselves. New Orleans is certainly Crowley’s scene and Aziraphale merely hopes that he still comes back to London.   
  
He wouldn’t necessarily blame Crowley for staying.   
  
They dine with food and drink and conversation is as effortless as it always is. Aziraphale always does more talking than Crowley, but Crowley peers at him as he speaks, his attention never wavering. He smiles that small smile when Aziraphale gets excited telling him about all of the foods he’s eaten since they last saw each other and Aziraphale merely tries not to run out of breath.   
  
When they’ve finished at the Gumbo Shop, they take a leisurely stroll down to Cafe du Monde. It’s incredibly busy there but again everyone recognizes Crowley and they usher them to a perfect table in the corner of the patio.   
  
Aziraphale orders the cafe au lait for something lighter, which Crowley warns him isn’t all that light, while Crowley gets the stronger black coffee. They order a plate of beignets and Aziraphale claps his hands when they’re delivered, steaming hot and fresh, with mounds of delicate powdered sugar coating them.   
  
Aziraphale breathes in the fried dough and sugar and groans as he nabs a beignet and puts it on his plate.   
  
“Mmm,” he hums and looks at Crowley with a grin. “You must have had dozens of these by now.”   
  
“No, actually,” Crowley says, his cheeks faintly pink for a reason Aziraphale can’t pinpoint. “I had them once when I joined someone’s party but I haven’t had them by myself since.”   
  
“Why ever not? They’re perfect!”   
  
“Just cause.”   
  
“Hmm,” Aziraphale hums and sets one on Crowley’s plate. “Well, you must indulge me.”   
  
“Don’t I always?” Crowley asks with a smile as he lifts his beignet, holding it up to Aziraphale.   
  
He taps his own against Crowley’s and takes a bite of the delightful treat. It melts in his mouth, all sugar and warm dough, and he slaps the table twice.   
  
Crowley laughs. “Good, is it?”   
  
“The best I’ve ever had,” Aziraphale says, not even bothered that he must have sugar all over his mouth.   
  
Crowley grins as he watches Aziraphale and eats his own beignet rather daintily. Aziraphale suspects Crowley will make fun of him later, but he doesn’t mind. If being made fun of by his best friend is the price he must pay to enjoy beignets, well, it’s not that steep of a price, is it?   
  
They devour their plates of beignets and drink their coffee and laugh about anything and everything. It’s hard to not reminisce about long past times, so they do, and Aziraphale marvels at how very long he’s known Crowley. Since the dawn of man!   
  
And, somewhere along the way, he’s fairly certain he fell in love.   
  
But what on earth can be done about it?   
  
They walk through the French Quarter when they’re done at Cafe du Monde and Aziraphale buys enough souvenirs to fit five very heavy bags. He miracles them to his hotel room when it’s time for his next airboat tour and goes back to the river with Crowley. Crowley sits by his side on this tour and his arm drapes across the side of the boat behind Aziraphale’s back.   
  
He’s rather distracted by it for most of the tour but he does manage to see wild pigs and beavers this time around.   
  
Once they’re done with their tour and the sun beings to set, Crowley takes up Aziraphale’s hand.   
  
“C’mon,” is all he says.   
  
And he doesn’t let go of Aziraphale’s hand the entire way down the river, until they come across a riverboat that will cruise down the river for the evening.   
  
It’s lit up brilliantly, its lights reflecting off the still water, and Aziraphale gazes up at it with a longing in his heart. To ride the riverboat, to see more of New Orleans, to spend more time with Crowley… he isn’t quite sure what.   
  
He watches Crowley gamble for a while, sipping on another Hurricane, and smiles to himself when Crowley gives away his earnings to someone who isn’t having any luck.   
  
They dine on another plate of beignets, which they take on a little table on the top of the boat. The stars shine above them, twinkling their hellos, and Aziraphale gazes up at them with a smile. How many belong to Crowley?   
  
His demon with a sentimental heart.   
  
“What’re you smiling about?” Crowley asks.   
  
When Aziraphale looks at him, Crowley is putting away his sunglasses, and his heart begins to race. It’s a rare treat, seeing Crowley’s lovely yellow eyes, and he has to stop himself from sighing too dreamily.   
  
“Oh, you,” he says.   
  
Crowley raises his eyebrows.   
  
“Erm, I mean…! The stars,” Aziraphale says hurriedly, his cheeks hot. “I was thinking about how many stars you must have created. Enough to light up the night sky, I think you once said.”   
  
“Yeah,” Crowley says as he looks up, the stars shining in his eyes. “Quite a few, I suppose. It’s been a long time since I’ve really thought about it.”   
  
“You’ve had a large hand in creating the universe,” Aziraphale says. “I suppose you might get used to it. Not me. I see something new every time I look.”   
  
Crowley looks at Aziraphale again, that small smile on his lips. “You don’t get tired of the view from earth?”   
  
“Never,” Aziraphale says as he smiles in return. “It’s far too lovely for that.”   
  
“I suppose some things are,” Crowley says as he gazes steadily at Aziraphale.   
  
Aziraphale clears his throat and looks down at his empty plate, still smiling. When he looks at Crowley again, it is to see a hand being offered to him. He blinks and takes it uncertainly, a fire igniting under his skin to feel Crowley’s hot skin against his.   
  
“A good song to dance to, don’t you think?” Crowley asks.   
  
Aziraphale gapes at him in awe.   
  
_ The Way You Look Tonight _ is being played by a live band below, a song Aziraphale likes quite a bit and that he knows Crowley knows.   
  
He gulps as he stands in front of Crowley, closer than he normally dares to. Crowley’s arm encircles his waist and Aziraphale rests his hand on Crowley’s shoulder. He finds he can’t look away from Crowley’s eyes but Crowley isn’t looking away either.   
  
It’s too much.   
  
It’s not nearly enough.   
  
They dance, gliding smoothly over the ground, and no one around them means a thing. The world feels as if it belongs only to Aziraphale and Crowley and no one else. They really only need each other, don’t they?   
  
If Aziraphale had to choose between heaven and Crowley, he knows what choice he would make, his virtue be damned.   
  
“And that laugh, wrinkles your nose,” Crowley sings. “Touches my foolish heart.”   
  
“Crowley,” Aziraphale says and nothing else. Crowley’s name, like the beat of his heart. _ Crow-ley, Crow-ley. _ What more does he need?   
  
It feels like walking on air when Aziraphale rests his head on Crowley’s shoulder and feels Crowley’s cheek against his temple. He closes his eyes as he sways, one song melting into the next.   
  
_   
I practice every day to find some clever lines to say _

_ To make the meaning come through _

_ But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late _

_ And I'm alone with you _

_ The time is right your perfume fills my head, the stars get red _

_ And oh the night's so blue _

_ And then I go and spoil it all, by saying something stupid _

_ Like: "I love you" _

  
“Is it stupid to say I love you?” Aziraphale asks.   
  
“Very,” Crowley says quietly. “But no one ever said we were smart.”   
  
Aziraphale laughs and looks up at Crowley, smiling warmly. “Then I suppose it should be easy to say, shouldn’t it?”   
  
“Incredibly,” Crowley sighs.   
  
“Crowley?”   
  
“Hmm?”   
  
“I love you.”   
  
Crowley smiles, his eyes infinitely soft. “I love you.”   
  
The world will keep on spinning. They will continue to live as an angel and demon, with their own respective sides, and they will continue to hide their arrangement.   
  
But, from this day forward, it’ll be harder to hide who they are and the love they carry for each other. It won’t matter one day soon, but today they’ll dance under the stars without a care in the world and whisper _ I love you. _

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea earlier and Had To Write It. It's obviously not very long but I got the picture down I wanted to and I really hope you enjoyed it. Kudos and comments mean everything. <3
> 
> Thank you to [angelsallfire](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire)!!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)
> 
> p.s. please forgive any mistakes, I've never been to New Orleans!


End file.
